|
|
|
|
|
|
"That is just what Simon said," Alinor sobbed, "those very words. And then we laughed because Simon knew the act itself, without the love that bound us, was worthless. A little more pleasure than pissing, Simon said." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A flash of rage flicked Ian. Simon said, Simon said. Was he doomed to a life of what Simon had said? "Just a few minutes since you told me Simon was dead. Now I tell it you," he snarled. "It is time to stop weeping for him." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Surprised, Alinor looked up. "I am not weeping for Simon. Not even I could have wished him to live longer. He hated himself for his illness. I did not try to keep him. That is my comfort. Not once, not once did I bid him rest, or not to climb the stairs, or not to do whatever he wished. I let him go. Butbut I am so lonely. I weep for me, for me, not for Simon." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"You will not be lonely long." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Ian stood before her like a statue, his eyes as blank, his face as set. Shock silenced Alinor. She stared at the expressionless face, trying to make sense of what he had said. Was Ian trying to warn her of a threat to her life, implying she would soon join Simon? The notion that he might threaten her himself did not even flicker through her mind. Alinor did not even think that no one would dare threaten her here at Roselynde, where every man was devoted to her. She simply knew that, no matter how he looked, Ian would never harm a hair of her head. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Then what? Her mind leaped to the talk about King John. Not lonely King John Of course, a marriage that would punish her for the way she had humiliated him. Alinor's face became as blank as Ian's as she considered the alternatives. Her first impulse was outright defiance. She put the idea aside, to be used as a last resort. With her hold on Simon's property insecure and doubts about her own younger vassals, she was not strong enough. That left acceptance. |
|
|
|
|
|